


The Prettiest Star

by thewakeless



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Cute, Fluff, M/M, dream - Freeform, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 23:03:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20366563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewakeless/pseuds/thewakeless
Summary: "when he was eight years old Dan dreamt that he ate a star"





	The Prettiest Star

When he was eight years old Dan dreamt that he ate a star. He was floating around in his favorite Winnie the Pooh pajamas his small, pale hand trying to grasp the glittering objects that surrounded him. The air was fresh and clean, reminding him of long car trips when he stuck his head out of the window, and everything was a mist of indigo and lavender. The colors of the dream were decadent, fuller and brighter than any color in real life. They had texture and taste and smell, he lived in them, became them, as he floated closer and closer to a big golden star. 

His fingertips brushed against it and became sparkly. The surface of the star was like sand, and shells, simultaneously polished and rough and he rubbed his whole hand against it until it too became golden. And what a gold! It was like the kiss of a gentle flame. Dan leaned his whole body into the star, breathing it in, feeling himself grow warm and bright like a sun. And a song came to him, something old that had to be hummed right then and now. He had no idea where the tune came from but it was so familiar he found ease in going along with it, moving his head gently from side to side. 

He didn’t know any of the words, but they too felt golden, like he was golden and his star was golden. He pressed himself against it once again, wishing in his heart of hearts that he too could become a star.  _ If only I was far away _ , he thought, and  _ safe with you _ . He nuzzled his forehead against its peak and started thinking ludicrous things. Perhaps they could be merged together, him and his star. Golden and ethereal, and safe in the cosmos. 

The world seemed to vanish then, real slowly, in spots, and Dan knew that he would wake up soon. He clutched at his star, and the power it filled him with, and he felt himself begin to cry.  _ I don’t want to leave you,  _ he thought with such panic that somewhere his real body tossed. The world was almost gone, destroyed by consciousness or fear, or the knowledge that he was experiencing something profound, and the last thing that 8-year-old Dan thought to do was take a bite of his star.  _ I’m taking you with me _ , he thought as he tasted its elixir, and then a moment later he was sitting up in his bed, sobbing so violently that he woke up the baby.

Of all the dreams he had in later life, and meticulously recorded in his journal, this one always felt different, sacred. It lay in his memory, half-forgotten, and half treasured. And he had a vague feeling of never having been so violently alive as those few brief moments that he had spent with his star. 

“You can see the whole city,” said Phil stiffly, looking straight ahead of him. 

“You can,” said Dan who wasn’t looking at the view at all. 

“Did you know that Beetham Tower is 47 stories?”

“I didn’t,” there was a smile playing on Dan’s lips. Until now Phil had always been the confident one, the flirty one. But now the boy next to him looked like he was in danger of melting away from his own awkwardness. 

“Tallest building in the UK that’s not in London,” he said as if this was very vital information for that particular moment. 

_ It’s cute,  _ Dan thought as he looked at the blue of his eyes.  _ He really doesn’t know how to take charge of the situation.  _ It was funny really since he was older and undoubtedly had more experience. But at that moment he seemed as nervous as a 12-year-old on their first date, while Dan, on the other hand, had a peculiar calm seeping through him. A strange certainty that he was in the right place, and that this was exactly the thing to happen. 

Slowly, giving Phil time to turn things back if that was what he wanted Dan moved a little closer and put his hand on Phil’s thigh, right above the knee. He shuffled looking at him with such surprise that for a moment Dan wondered if this was really what Phil wanted, but then he remembered all their talks, all their looks, all the days they had yearned for the distance between them to vanish, and then his hesitation disappeared. He leaned in and kissed him, not tentatively, not cautiously, he kissed him like he had always wanted to be kissed, he kissed him with his heart on his lips. 

When they parted Phil gave a little gasp, and his entire body seemed to relax. “Dan,” he said softly, pressing at his hand. 

“You taste like my star,” he answered before leaning in again, already an addict.

-

“Do you ever think about how unlikely all this is?” said Dan as he poured himself another glass of rosé wine. They were a jumble of limbs and blankets on the sofa, both giggly and flushed and with eyes glued to each other rather than the movie that was playing. 

“What’cha mean?” 

“This?” said Dan vaguely pointing to him and Phil, and also the room, with his wine cup and spilling a bit of it onto their blanket. 

Normal Phil would have been horrified but drunk Phil didn’t care much. “What this?” he said laughing and taking a drink of his own cup. 

“Us, Phil, us,” Dan whined. 

“Like humanity?” His boyfriend giggled and then gave a shrug. 

“No, you and me, like our  _ story _ ,” he was losing control of his emotions and he felt tears in his eyes. Not sad tears, he wasn’t a sad drunk, he was just emotional, because what if it hadn’t happened like this. One little thing gone differently and they wouldn’t be here, living their best lives. “Do you think it’s weird at all?”

“No,” said Phil. “We were meant to be together, I know that.”

Dan cringed. “Meant to be together, that’s so gross!”

“You're the one who called us companions through life, like actual soulmates  _ mate _ .”

He sighed, he was really never gonna live that down. “I know, but what was I supposed to call you? My boyfriend? That doesn’t-” he tried to come up with the word encompass but he was too drunk to, “It’s not enough. You’re not just my  _ boyfriend _ .”

“I’m your soulmate then?” he said leaning over and kissing Dan’s cheek. 

“I don’t know,” said Dan. “Cause it just doesn’t make any sense. You taste like my star Phil.”

Phil laughed. “You say that at the strangest times, and I never have any idea what you mean.”

“No, and you never will,” he answered as he finished the rest of his wine and put it sloppily down on the table. 

“You’re so cute drunk.”

“And you’re so hot,” said Dan his whole face flushed red. He wanted to feel him and taste him and sink into the safety of his body. That was all he wanted, all the time, and in some magical way, it still felt very much like that dream. The warmth, the light, the smell. And none of it made any sense. How they had been pulled and drawn together, and from the start, both had known and understood that this was it, this was the rest of their lives. 

He climbed up on Phil’s lap and began to kiss him, tasting gold, and wine, and want. It had been ten years now and his dependency on their physical and emotional intimacy had only strengthened. He pushed Phil's t-shirt aside and ran his fingers over the white of collarbone. Maybe it was even unhealthy how much they wanted each other, and loved each other, how inseparable they were, but Dan could never think of it like that, they just belonged together. 

_ Like soulmates,  _ he thought as he kissed Phil’s neck.  _ If souls are really a thing. Which they aren’t. And fate isn’t either. Things are never meant to be.  _ Those were his beliefs and they had been his beliefs, but it often seemed that they just didn’t apply to him and Phil. Because they  _ were  _ meant to be together. They  _ were  _ soulmates. Fate  _ had  _ been on their side. Wasn’t that obvious? Wasn’t it something that phans pointed at time and time again? Phil had freaking predicted his coming in _ tarot cards _ , and Dan had dreamt with him as a  _ star _ . How did that make any sense at all, like logically?

But then Phil’s hand squeezed his ass and logic went right out the window. What did it matter after all if it was fate or coincidence? Phil was the only thing in the universe that made sense. He was his soulmate, his companion through life, his beautiful golden star, and at that moment Dan didn’t even mind how corny and disgusting those terms sounded because they were true.

_ It was all meant to be this way _ , he thought,  _ even if it doesn’t make any sense _ . 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> big thanks to david bowie's 1997 remix of the prettiest star, you are 90% responsible for the excessive romanticism of my nature.


End file.
